


Brief, Commercial-Like Breaks

by Dakforest



Series: Night Spider 'Verse [2]
Category: Deadpool (2016), Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Body Worship, Bondage, Bottom Peter Parker, Cock Tease, Cock Worship, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medication, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7943734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dakforest/pseuds/Dakforest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had started with a flyer.<br/>Peter stood alone in the room, surrounded by records and posters, nick knacks and statuary, comfy couches and knitted blankets. And a Christmas Tree, because Wade. Only his beloved would insist on keeping a Christmas Tree all year round.<br/>That wasn’t what caught his attention, though. No, right then, it was a modest frame hanging on the wall. It was an ostentatious piece. Not the frame, but what it contained. Polished black paper emblazoned with a white design.<br/><i>Performing one night only...</i><br/>“What do you say, Baby Boy?” Peter smiled as Wade’s arms snaked around his shoulders, and shivered when his lover’s hot breath rushed past his ear, “Do you wanna be my Hero of the Night?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Restlessness

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first spinoff series from the _Night Spider_ epic.  
>  All the stories in this series will take place during the two-month period where Peter and Wade were living together in Wade's apartment. Tags will be updated as content is added.  
> I decided to start this series for two reasons.  
> 1) It seems I'm well into the part of the story where there's not going to be as much smut. This series is meant to alleviate that, as well as continue to work the on the foundation for our lovers' relationship.  
> 2) There's actually a fair amount I'd planned to get into regarding the apartment complex as a whole, Wade's apartment, other tenants, and so forth, and it just didn't make it into the story _at all_. So, all that lovely stuff is going to find a home here.  
>  I don't expect this series will get the same kind of update frequency as the main fic. This is more of an as-I-have-time project, or when I'm in the mood to write smut.  
> Each chapter is meant to be a self-contained story unless otherwise indicated by a Part 1/2/3 etc. in the title. The stories are going to be more-or-less in chronological order, especially the early chapters, but after a certain point, I don't see that it's really going to matter.  
> I'll try to include enough information to follow along if you're not familiar with the _Night Spider_ story.  
>  That's about all I can think of for this. I hope you enjoy the ride.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I feel useless,” he protested, “I can do things for myself. I want to pull my own weight.”
> 
> Wade set the knife down and leaned back against the counter, tilting his scarred head down to put those beautiful blue eyes in front of his. “Baby, you don’t have any weight to pull. It’s been nothing but doctors, tests, and charts for the last three days. I’ve finally got you all to myself and I intend to spoil you rotten."

Peter Parker felt his muscles seizing up, bit by bit. The medication had taken hold. As he lay there, it was killing his cells – both diseased and not – in a desperate bid to keep him alive.

He’d lived with this silent killer for over a year, though. He knew what to expect from his medicine and how to handle it. The pain would come. It always did. There was nothing to do but to push through it and get shit done.

At least, that’s how he would be handling it if it were up to him.

“Just call me _angel_ of the morning, Angel,” Wade sang – almost on key – to the song pouring from the high definition speaker system, “Just touch my cheek before you _leave me,_ Baby.”

Peter let his head deadweight against the arm of the well-loved sofa. In the kitchen, his lover shook his ass and rocked his head in time to the beat while mincing beef.

When he first saw Wade reverently slide a vinyl record from its sleeve, he’d resigned to an hour of scratchy, clicking noise that had once been music. Instead, the sounds that came from the record player were pure and butter smooth. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the musicians were here in the room.

Wade turned to him, his hand outstretched and rising as he enthusiastically sang, “I won’t beg you to stay… with me. Through tears…” He couldn’t help it. He smiled at the merc’s exaggerated expressions and earned a grinning wink in return before Wade went back to his preparation. “Baby. _Baby_!”

Peter bit back the grunt of pain until he was sure Wade’s attention was on his task again. He focused on tracing the line of his lover’s gyrating spine from his neck to the cleft of his ass where the old jeans hugged just right.

He wanted to be in the kitchen with him, competing with Wade with all the skill Aunt May had drilled into him since childhood. He wanted to dance like an idiot, bumping hips with Wade while they made fools of themselves to the music. He’d tried, too.

“I got this, Baby Boy,” Wade gently covered his hand when Peter tried to pick up a knife, “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m not an invalid, Sugar Tits,” he tried to keep his tone light and joking, “I’ve gotten along just fine with this thing before now. I think I can cut a few veggies.”

Wade poked him in the shoulder. He tried to bite back the hiss and pretend it didn’t affect him. It was just a gentle prod, after all, but it hurt like the man had hauled back and hit him.

“Uh huh,” Wade grunted. He ghosted his fingers up Peter’s neck and leaned in to peck him on the cheek. Both gestures felt like he was scraping hot sand over Peter’s skin. “I don’t think so, Honey Bottom. We had a good workout this morning. Now it’s time to lay down and get some rest.” He gave Peter’s ass a light nudge toward the couch, “Go on. I’ll take care of anything you need.”

“I feel useless,” he protested, “I can do things for myself. I want to pull my own weight.”

Wade set the knife down and leaned against the counter, tilting his scarred head down to put those beautiful blue eyes in front of his. “Baby, you don’t have any weight to pull. It’s been nothing but doctors, tests, and charts for the last three days. I’ve finally got you all to myself and I intend to spoil you rotten. Like it or not, right now that means until dinner’s ready and you can take your evening meds, you’re gonna take your spoilage laying on that couch,” he pointed at the sofa. “If you can’t do that, I’ll grab the silk and tie you to the bed. Maybe if I turn the lights off, you’ll actually get some sleep.”

Much as he wanted to prove him wrong, Peter didn’t have the energy to fight back. Which found him where he was, watching Wade give his all to entertain Peter. 

He wasn’t the least bit sleepy, but he closed his eyes anyway. Hopefully, the way his body dead-weighted against the cushions would sell the ruse. It was too late to do much of anything, anyway. He should’ve stayed active instead of letting Wade talk him into laying down in the first place. Now that the pain had set in, he just had to grit his teeth and bear it. There was no reason to drag Wade through that process, though.

Before too long, the record changed to something less enthusiastic and the volume came down. He lay still a while longer, peeking now and then to make sure Wade was distracted. Finally, Peter ground his teeth and did his best to appear sleepy-casual as he rolled onto his side, facing the back of the couch. He wouldn’t have to keep up the relaxed mask this way.

In the week or so they’d been together – by Thor, had it only been a week – Wade had made every effort to become an expert on his facial tells. It was getting harder and harder to slip things by the mercenary.

Right now, he didn’t want to worry about the other man hovering over him and fretting. Maybe he should crawl into bed after all. It’d be darker there and Wade wouldn’t be able to watch him every second. Then again, he’d just check on him every few minutes anyway.

No, this was fine. He felt his jaw lock and his brow wrinkled over the bridge of his nose. He was fine.

He hung in that place. The music and the sounds of Wade working in the kitchen faded together in a mesh of background noise.

When five waves of needles scraped across his scalp, it caught him completely off guard. He gasped and arched, his head bearing down on the sofa arm.

Wade froze, “Baby?”

Peter’s exhale carried with it a keening whimper. It didn’t hurt, exactly. It felt… raw, like every nerve was hyper-sensitive. Every shifting hair felt like a pine needle pricking his scalp.

“Peter,” Wade said more firmly, his fingertips scorching Peter’s brow as he brushed aside his fringe, “talk to me. Where does it hurt?”

He jerked his head to the side and another wave of sensation rippled across his scalp. It didn’t feel so raw this time, but even if it had, he wouldn’t have cared. It had been so long since anyone had messed with his hair. It reminded him of better times, when he was happy… when he had a family.

Things weren’t so bad now, though. He wasn’t alone anymore.

“Don’t stop,” he breathed at last. At Wade’s questioning sound, he leaned his head back against his lover’s hand. The fingers rotated as the cushions dipped behind his back and Peter keened as, slowly, Wade began to pet him. He massaged his scalp with the pads of his fingers and combed them through Peter’s hair before soothing the locks down with the palm of his hand.

At first, the sensation was intense. Every freshly stimulated patch of skin felt raw to the point of pain. The feeling passed quickly, though, settling into a heady buzz as endorphins flooded his system and eased the tension from his stiff, sore muscles.

“Does that feel good, Baby Boy?” Wade crooned. Peter could only moan in response, caught between the stiff pain in his body and the intoxicating sensation of Wade’s hand.

The weight behind his back slid away and a second hand joined the first, sweeping his hair up as the heel pressed against his temple in slow, circular motions. Peter hissed when Wade rolled him onto his back. He couldn’t hide his expression from the man now, but his lover made no comment as he leaned over Peter.

He gasped as Wade’s fingers carded through the hair on the neglected side of his head and looked up into his lover’s focused blue eyes.

Wade smiled at him, “How does that feel?”

Peter’s eyes fluttered, “Intense. Almost hurts at first… but then it feels so good.”

“So it takes you a minute to warm up, huh?” His mouth curled as he bent down to brush his lips against Peter’s, “that gives me an idea.”

Peter whimpered at the contact, his eyes losing focus, “What are you gonna do?”

Wade placed another kiss on the corner of Peter’s mouth with an appreciative hum, “Don’t you worry about it, Baby.” Another kiss dipped down over Peter’s lower lip, catching the skin between his mouth and chin. “Just leave everything to me. The only thing I want you to do is relax.”

Peter whimpered as Wade turned his head so he could kiss and suckle down his jawline. Peter was lost to it. Every new inch of flesh Wade marked felt as though it had never been touched before. Panting, he tried to move, but everything below his neck felt locked in paralysis.

His lover shifted, leaning over Peter like a workbench. He kept one hand buried in Peter’s hair while his mouth lavished Peter’s neck. The free hand traced Peter’s chest through his shirt. He gasped at the contact, the hot, raw sensation at odds with the intoxicating sensitivity above his shoulders.

Wade kissed him again, drawing a whine from Peter as he slipped his tongue between his lips to smother his mouth with equal attention.

His wandering fingers found the peaking nub of a nipple and began to toy with it as Peter shuddered. The lightest touch ripped through him like lightning and he moaned into Wade’s waiting mouth. His body jerked despite the paralysis at the first gentle pinch.

“Wade,” Peter broke the kiss with a gasp. He couldn’t focus. His head rolled uselessly to the side as his lover began to kiss up toward his ear. “Oh, god…”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Wade’s voice rumbled low in his ear, “You’re helpless under my touch, aren’t you. You’re drunk on it. Intoxicated.” Peter gasped when he felt gentle teeth nibble the rim of his ear, “I’m gonna get you high, Baby Boy. I’m gonna put that medicine of yours to shame, and send you rocketing up to the stratosphere.”

Peter whimpered and his back arched when Wade began to pinch and roll his nipple again. 

“I’m gonna leave you floating,” he kissed Peter’s pulse point, “right there, hanging over the world like a god while I worship your beautiful body on my knees. I’m gonna go real slow.” He sucked Peter’s lobe, “I want to memorize everything about you, every taste, every crevasse, and every sensitive nerve cluster.”

Peter trembled when the hand tormenting his nipple disappeared, only to reappear on the other. “Wade… Please.”

“No, Baby Boy. I’m the one who should be begging, pleading with you to shower me with your benediction, to bathe me in the proof of your love. However, a god does not grant such gifts idly. I know I must prove my devotion, and I shall, the only way I know how. I’ll worship your mortal flesh, laid out for me on my altar, until I've transcended all that binds you. Then and only then will your blessing will rain down from the heavens.”

Wade did as he promised; reducing Peter to a whimpering, moaning bundle of nerves as his fingers traced the next patch of flesh to be worshiped. Once the initial hypersensitivity had passed, he bent over to lavish it with his gentle, scarred lips. He thought he might die as the hem of his shirt gave way to expose the first sliver of his stomach. Still, his lover refused to be spurred. Instead, he moved with reverent deliberation, showering Peter with praise between long, open-mouthed kisses.

“Wade,” Peter keened, feeling his shirt scrape up over his nipples, exposing them to the cool apartment air. His teeth ached with his need for Wade to wrap his lips around them.

“You’re almost there, Baby Boy,” Wade murmured against Peter’s abdomen, “I see you laying on those clouds, but you’re not quite high enough yet.”

Peter bucked his hips the first time those lips grazed the edge of his areola. Wade tormented him with kisses while his head swam and his cock strained against the confines of his trousers, untouched and ignored. “Wade, please… please just touch me. I need you. I need to feel you… I can’t…”

Wade’s free hand brushed over Peter’s mouth, teasing his lips before slipping past his teeth to stroke his tongue. Peter whimpered and arched under him, sucking and fondling the digits with his tongue while the man continued to tease his nipple. When that wicked mouth, at last, descended and drew it in, the shock and relief of it was enough to make Peter cry out and sob around the fingers in his mouth.

“There you are,” his low voice washed over Peter’s skin, leaving him a shaking wreck as the vibrations raced along his nerves, “There are you. Right there. That’s where I want you to stay, Baby Boy, flying high above me, where you can see the stars.”

Peter’s eyes watered. His body writhed of its own accord as Wade sucked his chest and spread his tongue over the engorged nub. The first tug on the button of his pants filled him with need and anxious dread. The fear and knowledge that Wade would deny him the touch he so desperately needed, it left him crying around his hand. He couldn’t even voice his pleas with those fingers pressing down on his tongue, languidly stroking it from the tip back into his throat.

At last, after he’d tired of tormenting the other nipple, Wade began to work his way down Peter’s stomach again. As soon as the fingers reluctantly slid off his lips, Peter threw back his head and sobbed, “Fuck me, please. Oh God, Wade, please. I can’t take anymore. I need to feel you inside me. I need your lips around me. Please-.” The plea broke into a sharp cry as Wade hooked his fingers under the waist of Peter’s pants and swept them down off his legs, leaving him naked, straining, and exposed.

“Don’t worry, Baby Boy,” he crooned as he stood over Peter, taking in the sight of his writhing body, “I’ll take care of everything.” Peter flushed as he looked up at Wade, his skin burning beneath the man’s scorching gaze. “You wait right there for me, Babe. I’ll be back.”

Peter sobbed, his body curling in on itself as Wade disappeared into the bedroom. With need consuming him, Peter reached for his straining cock and jumped, gasping, as his fingers grazed the hyper-sensitive member. It wasn’t enough, though. That one touch only made it worse. Eyes clenched and whining, he reached further and wrapped his hand around his cock, only for it to be yanked away.

“That’s not yours, Baby Boy,” Wade gripped his wrist a little tighter as Peter looked up at him.

“Wade please,” he arched his back, making his cock bob over his stomach. “I’m ready for you. I need you to touch me. Please.”

Above him, Wade smiled and hooded his eyes, “I will, Baby. I promise I will, in my own time.” Peter sobbed when a long sheet of white silk wrapped around his wrist. Wade kept the binding loose, wrapping his wrist again and again before setting it over Peter’s head and wrapping the other wrist. When he was done, he took the two long tails and wound them around material between his wrists until it formed a snug knot. Satisfied, he disappeared from Peter’s view and secured the bindings to the foot of the sofa.

“Now then,” he crooned as he came back around to kneel beside Peter’s hips, “Where were we?”

Peter sucked in his breath, watching him as Wade walked his fingers down the inside of Peter’s thigh. With barely a smirk as a warning, Wade hooked his fingers under Peter’s calf and pulled his leg up and back along the side his chest. Peter gasped and then shouted as the sinew and tendons began to strain.

“That’s far enough,” he choked out, his nerves firing at the unexpected stretch.

Wade frowned and studied him, “Are you okay, Babe? I’ve seen you bend further.”

Peter swallowed and nodded, “I’m not as flexible with my powers suppressed.”

“Ah,” he eased up a little and admired the line of Peter’s leg with a smile, “Still, that will do nicely.” With a wink, he leaned over the back of Peter’s thigh and rested his arm across Peter’s stomach, pinning the limb in place. Peter’s eyes widened and his breath picked up, realizing how utterly exposed he was now to whatever his lover wanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” Wade murmured, pinning Peter’s other leg against the couch cushions when he tried to gain some thrusting leverage, “How could I have gone so long without giving you the admiration you deserve?”

Peter choked over his whine as he watched Wade dip his head down. He tried to thrust up to meet his lover’s mouth, but the larger man had him well pinned. His breath caught and his arms strained as Wade opened his mouth and blew hot air over the engorged head of his cock. His lips were so close, he could practically feel the saliva on his skin. Despite being pinned, Peter rocked his hips anyway, trying to encourage Wade to take him in.

He didn’t. Instead, and with a wicked grin, he turned his treacherous mouth aside at the last second and breathed back along the underside of his shaft. Peter uttered a strangled cry and threw his head back. He struggled against the silk and tried to push Wade with his leg, but the man only applied more weight. Then, like a miracle, Peter gasped and sobbed as his lover laid a kiss right there, at the juncture between his cock and his balls.

Mouth open, teeth covered, he applied gentle suction to the loose skin and swirled his tongue over the captured flesh. “Oh god… fuck, Wade. Fuck please…” Peter’s attempts to thrust amounted to little more than weak, shallow bobs. He rocked his head from side to side while meaningless, whimpering pleas pouring from his lips and the silks tightened around his wrists.

Wade’s only response was to place another open mouthed kiss a little further up Peter’s engorged cock. That tongue tormented him. He could hear the man’s heavy breath as Wade sucked in Peter’s smell through his nose before washing him in a rush of heat. He continued to languidly kiss his way up Peter’s length and stopped with his lips just barely grazing the crown of Peter’s glans.

The hand that held his straight leg down slipped off his thigh, but by then Peter didn’t care. All that mattered was Wade, and that he did _something_ with that fucking mouth of his. Something other than teasing him with butterfly kisses and kitten licks across his tight ball sack. He couldn’t even see what his lover was doing anymore, his view blocked by the man’s tree-trunk arm and shoulder.

“Wade, I swear to god, if you don’t do something soon I will string you up by your ankles and milk your god damned cock to the bone while I carve runes into your flesh!”

Wade buckled. His mouth, once ghosting over the eye of his glans, surged forward with a gasp to take Peter in. He would have to, but for the damn arm braced across Peter’s pelvis. As it was, Peter barely felt those lips brush the flair of his head before Wade withdrew.

“We need to work on your threats, Baby Boy.” He said with a predatory grin up at Peter, “because I just heard a promise and now I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you follow through on that delicious little scene of yours.”

Peter threw his head back, sobbing, “Damn it, Wade. Please. I can’t stand it. I need to come. Please. _Please_ , let me come.”

“Not after a threat like that, you don’t, Baby Boy. You’re not coming anywhere, but if you ask me nicely,” Peter gasped as he felt a slick finger probe at his hole, “and I mean very nicely, sweet like, I might let you taste something else you want.”

“Yes,” he uttered with a breathless sob, his muscles locking as he fought to stay perfectly still, “Yes. Yes, please. Daddy, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be bad, Daddy. Please don’t be mad at me. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to fill me up until I burst. Please. I’ll do whatever you want, if you’ll please let me feel your big, pulsing, ribbed cock inside my filthy little hole. Please. Please.”

He whimpered and cried as Wade began to tease and knead his sphincter with his lubed up hand, while his mouth went back to worshiping Peter’s cock. Flattening his tongue on Peter’s perineum, he dragged it up over Peter’s trembling balls, down to dip in the cleft between his testicles and his cock, and then back up in a long, lazy stroke up the underside to finally flick the tip of his tongue over Peter’s glans, catching the bead of precum crystalizing there.

Any trace of coherent thought abandoned Peter with that stolen bead, reducing him to a tearstained, pleading, babbling, crying mess on the couch while Wade had his wicked way with him. The first digit to finally slip past the tight ring of muscle felt like a gift from the gods, while every slow motion to follow was a torment inflicted by Hel herself.

It was a torment that never seemed to end, as Wade wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the base of Peter’s clenched balls and dragged a wavering cry from Peter’s throat as he slowly pulled. Then, with three fingers in his ass and the skin stretched tight across his tentacles, _then_ Wade saw fit to swallow Peter’s sword to the hilt.

Still, Peter wasn’t allowed to move. He could only cry out and plead Wade’s name as he set a slow, torturous pace. Somewhere, someway, he must have found a single fragmented, merciful bone in his lover’s body, because he flexed his fingers against Peter’s prostate and picked up speed. Even then, Peter teetered right on the edge of release, held there by the pull on his balls while Wade’s head bobbed faster and faster, his tongue dancing over his head with every withdrawal until Peter simply couldn’t take it anymore.

“OH GODS! Wade, I’m coming. I’m gonna… AHHhh!” The scream tore from his lungs as Wade ripped Peter’s pleasure through his cock in hot, thick ropes that painted his throat with every humming swallow.


	2. Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter covered Wade’s arm around his waist with his own, “You want to talk about blindfolds?”
> 
> “Hmm. Blindfolds, nipple clamps,” he slipped his hand lower to brush Peter’s cock with his fingertips, “maybe some judicious denial.”

Peter cried out his release as Wade pounded his ass once more, twice, and filled him with his seed. The larger man collapsed on him a moment later, his large body pressing his to the mattress. Peter moaned, savoring the feel of his lover’s weight spread across his back while his girth filled him.

“Shit,” Wade muttered and started scrambling to get off him.

“Don’t,” Peter twisted his arm to catch Wade’s wrist and pulled him back down, “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Baby Boy,” Wade’s breath warmed the side of Peter’s neck, “But I don’t want to crush you either.”

Peter chuckled, “You can’t, Dummy. Evening meds, remember. I could pick you up and carry you right now. Besides, it feel’s good.” He moaned to illustrate his point when Wade spread out on top of him, arms and legs covering his.

“Does my boy like being pinned down?” Wade nuzzled the juncture between Peter’s head and neck, his tongue flicking out to lick the pulse point.

“I like this,” he answered, closing his eyes as he basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Wade hummed near his ear, his scars feeling like long pearls against Peter’s skin. “What else does my baby boy like?”

Peter rocked his hand up to thread his fingers through Wade’s, “You have something in mind, Babe? We’ve got plenty of time left before the clock strikes twelve.”

“Oh, Baby, there’s so much on my mind and I want to do it all to you.” Peter shivered when Wade scraped his teeth along the edge of his ear, then moaned in protest as he pulled out.

“There, now. None of that.” Wade gave Peter’s ass a firm squeeze, “Like you said we have lots of time, but I don’t want to get all sticky while we talk.”

Peter pushed up onto his elbows, watching his lover retrieve a soft-pack of baby wipes from the bedside table and began to clean them both off. “Do you mean talk as in pillow talk or talk-talk?”

“Eh,” his lover rocked his head from side to side as he dropped the used clothes into the little trashcan by the bed, “A bit of both, really. Something nice and cozy in between.” He fell on the bed, catching Peter around the waist and rolling with him, spooning him from behind.

“Okay,” Peter laughed, “What did you have in mind then?”

Wade kissed his shoulder, “You remember our talk the other night? I asked you how you felt about blindfolds and you gave them a 3 out of 10 on the fear scale?”

Peter shuddered, remembering too well how that conversation ended, “Yes. What about it?”

The mercenary planted an open-mouthed kiss on his neck and Peter dropped his shoulder to give him better access, “I want to talk about more of that shit. I want to know what your limits are, what you’re comfortable with and what you’re not. For example,” he walked his fingers up Peter’s side, “What was that shiver about?”

Peter wriggled as his lover’s fingertips brushed a ticklish spot and batted them away. “Nothing. Just blindfolds aren’t what I remember that conversation for.”

Warm breath rushed over his shoulder and Wade folded around Peter’s body, pulling him close, “I’m sorry, Baby. I won’t ever ask you to do that again.”

“I know you won’t,” Peter covered Wade’s arm around his waist with his own, “so forget it. You want to talk about blindfolds?”

“Hmm. Blindfolds, nipple clamps,” he slipped his hand lower to brush Peter’s cock with his fingertips, “maybe some judicious denial.”

Peter swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, “Here I thought I was the kinky one.”

Wade chuckled low near his ear, “Baby Boy, we’re both kinky.” He lifted up onto his elbow and tucked his fingers under Peter’s chin, turning his head to look up at him, “but knowing that just makes it all the more important to know where each other’s boundaries are.”

“How,” Peter’s breath caught and he took another breath, “How do you want to do that?”

“Well,” he drew the word out, running his fingers over Peter’s lips. He could still smell the musk of his own cum on the man’s fingers, mixed with the vanilla scented wash from the wipes. “We could talk about our fantasies, but as fun as that would be, it might not get us the information I’m looking for.”

He kissed Peter then, fingers brushing back along his jaw and sending a thrill down his spine. Peter tried to relax into it, but his mind was already starting to whirl through the different possibilities of what Wade might want from him. He remembered how effortlessly this man could thrust him into that regression headspace, stripping his mental and emotional resistance down to nothing with a word, and then yank him back out again just as easily. The same fear that captured him then choked him now, and he found it hard to breathe.

“Red,” he managed to get out against his lover’s lips.

Wade withdrew at once, his brow pinched as he looked down at Peter. “What is it, Babe? What’s wrong?”

Peter didn’t answer him right away. At the moment he couldn’t bear to look at him properly. His heart was thumping hard and he was having trouble catching his breath. Digging his feet into the sheets, he rolled away and crawled up to the headboard. There, he braced his back against the cool surface and wrapped his arms loosely around his legs, head between his knees, and focused on breathing.

“Baby,” he felt the bed shift as Wade climbed up to his knees, “Peter, talk to me. What happened?”

He tried to think of something to say, but it was taking all his focus to control his breath and keep from hyperventilating. He’d started to squeeze his knees closer to his chest when Wade dug his fingers under Peter’s palm and gripped his hand.

“Focus, Pete. Come on, focus right here,” he tightened his hold on Peter’s hand, “It’s okay. You’re okay. I promise you’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you here.”

Peter clung to Wade’s hand. The mutant power that allowed him to mimic Spiderman’s wall-crawling ability fused the skin of their palms together. It also established an empathic connection between them, allowing them to sense each other’s moods and emotions. If he held on long enough, they would start to feel each other’s ticks.

Wade’s focused concern seemed to loom over him, as the man himself did, kneeling on the bed beside him.

“Baby,” Peter felt his lover stroke his thumb over his knuckles. Wade talked him through the anxiety attack, all the while wrapping Peter’s empathic sense of self in protective warmth. Before long, he found it easier to breathe and the tension in his muscles began to relax.

“There you are,” Wade leaned his head down to peer into Peter’s eyes, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he responded weakly. He tucked his knees to one side and looked away, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” his lover gave his hand a squeeze, “Did I push too hard?”

Peter shook his head, “It’s not that. I just…” he ducked his head, “What if I’m not what you want? What if I can’t give you what you need?”

“Baby Boy,” Wade edged closer, “That’s the whole point of talking about it.” He crooked a gentle finger beneath Peter’s chin and coaxed his gaze back to meet his. “Don’t even worry about disappointing me. It’s as I said before. I’ve had years to explore my limits, what I like and don’t like. Believe me, if all you wanted was a vanilla bed-life, I’d be totally down with that, but we both know you’re into way more than that. Aren’t you, my little, blood-letting sadist?”

Peter cracked a tiny smile at that and Wade grinned in return.

“Come here.”

Peter let his lover pull him back into his arms.

The next day followed the usual pattern, dictated by the cycle of his medication.

It was early in the evening. Peter sat at the table, an empty dinner plate before him, smeared with the dregs of another of Wade’s delicious meals. His lover handed him the evening’s pillbox and a fresh glass of water before clearing the plates. He took his medicine gladly and then laid his head on the table to wait for the last of the day’s fatigue to pass.

The faucet hissed, spewing water over the dishes into the sink. A moment later, something slid over the table beside him and jabbed lightly against Peter's arm. Grunting, he lifted his head and saw Wade move past him into the living room. He’d left a short stack of paper on the table, stapled in the corner, face down.

“What’s this?” he asked, easing back to pick up the document.

“Some talking points,” Wade answered casually, “When you’re ready.”

Peter’s ear pulled back when he heard the telltale sound of a vinyl record sliding from its sheath. The speakers crackled as Wade set the needle into the groove and then butter-smooth chords and crystal clear vocals filled the apartment.

Swallowing, Peter turned the papers over and took in the beginnings of what – at a glance – appeared to be a comprehensive yes/no/maybe list. There was much more than just the usual kinks on there, however. There was a whole subsection dedicated to vanilla activities, and another specifically addressing various types of role-playing.

Wade didn’t say anything as Peter flipped through the pages. Instead, he went back to the sink and started singing along as he washed the evening’s dishes.

Peter bit his lip, “You want to go over this thing tonight?”

“I want to work through it when you’re ready,” he answered, “Not before. I thought it would help if you had time to look it over on your own.”

“But what about you?” Peter put the paper down to look at him, “This isn’t just about me. I need to know what not to do with you as well.”

Wade cast him a playful smile, “That would be part of working through it together. There are a few items on that list you should know about, but the rest of it,” he brushed the matter aside, “Baby Boy, my limits are so far-reaching and esoteric that I guarantee we’ll hit yours long before we get close to mine.”

“And you’ll really be okay if I can’t do some of these things?”

Deadpool put the last plate away and came over to the table, drying his hands. “Honey Bottom," he said in low, calming tones, "I’m a pansexual paraphilic, which is just a fancy way of saying I like _everything_. I’ve done things that would make your cute, baby-faced head spin. Maybe sometime, if you ask real nice, I’ll tell you about them. Point is,” he sat across from Peter and held out his hand, squeezing Peter’s fingers when he accepted, “Whatever you want goes. I’m good. I can have just as much fun going missionary as I can strung up with my spider carving up my back.”

Peter studied him a long moment, looking for any sign that he was holding back, but Wade was just as open as always. Finally, he nodded and looked down at the document again. “All right. We’re going to need two shades of ink, though. I’m not the only one filling this thing out.” Wade planted a kiss on the back of Peter’s hand and fetched back the pens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to note that I'm aware that Paraphilic normally has a negative connotation, denoting a dangerous mental illness. While we are talking about Wade, I'm using it here in the non-predatory sense. In context, it's no different than a bibliophile (someone who loves books) or a Pluviophile (someone who loves rain), only what he loves are kinks of all kinds.


End file.
